The necromancer sat in a wicker chair with his back to the walls of the morgue, his wordless robes pulled tightly against the unusually cold around him. He stared at the sick room. In the past few days, the gnawing and scratching sounds of rats as they gnaw on dead people have disappeared. Even the pests were driven away by the depraved energy that had gathered in this place. Now there is only one living creature in the entire cemetery.

The necromancer stared at the stone knife on the floor next to the chair. He picked up the sword several times and pressed it against his wrist. Death would be a welcome release compared to the horrors he unleashed. If only he could choose to die. It is not as decisive as he thought a week ago.

He lifted his eyes from the knife and stared at the silent, motionless figures in front of him. He commanded them to come here, and they came. He could order them to leave, and they would leave. If he closes his eyes and imagines them raising their arms in salute, the rotting arms will be raised. His whims are unbreakable laws for these zombies. They have no will of their own, and are completely enslaved by the desires of the necromancer. He found the concept sometimes fascinating and sometimes disgusting. His mind was filled with thoughts of power and utter despair.

Necromancer. The word comes from the Great Book of Aort the Fallen, the title of the most condemned heretic of them all - the apostate pierced the veil between life and death, and he drew his magic from the emanation of the grave. A mad monster who follows the forbidden art of the cursed underworld.

Yuan Rong tried to tell himself that he was not such a person, and that there was a huge chasm between him and an apostate like Alter. He knew that this argument was a lie, the last time he would be desperate to insist on decency and morality, to be faithful to the God he had betrayed.

Despite being smart, Ault was spotted for a reason. The temple is built on a meeting point, a meeting point of power that amplifies the effects of any witchcraft. As Ault practiced the spell, he opened a door that he couldn't close. The dark energy swells and grows until it is impossible to ignore. This is a testament to Ault's failure. It also proves the source of the necromancer's current curse.

When he summoned Wen Qiuxi's ghost, the Wordless opened the floodgates. Once the harmful radioactive material is ignited, it will not go away. They are scattered, with no direction and no focus, they act according to the subconscious desires of the necromancer who summoned them. All of Alter's spells and secrets were locked in his head, and the knowledge of the necromancer could even go back to antiquity.

In his sleep, his mind reawakened those spells, and the directionless energy made them a reality. Yuan Rong felt guilty and ashamed for failing to save the local people from the plague, resulting in the resurrection of the unholy dead in the form of zombies – an ironic and aimless rebuttal to the Black Death.

This is a remarkable feat for any warlock - to be able to cast a spell of this kind without a spell or gesture, with only will. Yuan Rong never thought that he would have such an ability in his mind. If he had had, he would have committed suicide long ago.

The necromancer glared at the rotting zombies standing in front of him. He would love to get them to jump into the lake, but they do. There is no limit to their servitude. As an experiment, he ordered one of them to bite off his own arm. He didn't specify which arm it was, just watched in amazement as the zombies gnawed at each arm in turn.

Such loyalty should not exist in this world! Yuan Rong shuddered at the terrifying power he possessed. However, can't such fear be transformed into kindness? Is it only evil that produces evil? He is still a decent person, moral, fair. He can control this terrifying power. He won't let it control him.

Yuan Rong got up from his chair and tiptoed past the zombies. He faced one of the alcoves, which were filled with the corpses of locals. These corpses failed to be resurrected under the influence of the necromancer's subconscious. Under the protection of the Holy Spirit's holy rituals, these dead have become sacred. Protection against evil is enough to withstand his purposeless spells. However, he wondered what would have happened if he had deliberately concentrated his power on one of the bodies?

The necromancer turned away. With a snap of his fingers, a pair of zombies staggered towards the alcove. Silently, they reached into the pile and dragged out the body of a young woman. The zombies were still carrying out their master's tacit orders, carrying their sick baggage to the stone table and laying it flat on the icy ground.

As he stared at the dead shell, Yuan Rong imagined Wen Qiuxi's body lying there. For a moment, he felt a pang of remorse. He was close to giving up on this terrible experiment, but a strong desire to know, to know his limits, pushed him to continue. Wen Qiuxi was safe in the mausoleum, next to her son and the ancient Templars. She wasn't involved in it. Only Yuan Rong and some nameless peasant carrion.

He closed his eyes and imagined the forces of darkness, drawing lines of black energy and wrapping them around the corpse that had fallen to the ground. His lips whispered prayers, calling the names of the nine Underworld Emperors. The strange tones of the names seemed to make the room tremble, and the space began to distort. Yuan Rong could feel it crawl down his tongue, glide across the morgue like a living thing, and land on the pale forehead of the dead woman.

For a moment, the necromancer could feel the corpse struggling against his will. It was a brief revolt, casually brushed away like a spider's web. Yuan Rong opened his eyes and reached for the corpse. The dead woman awkwardly got up from the stone slab. A smile of victory flashed across Yuan Rong's face. Even the protection of the gods is not enough to fight his power!

The necromancer returned to his chair and stared at his undead slaves. That's power, but he doesn't abuse it. He will use this power in a just cause, in contrast to the brutal abuses of those corrupt lords.

Yuan Rong's eyes became extremely cold and ruthless for a while, and his hands clenched the armrests of the chair.

There was too much injustice in this world, too much suffering, but he knew where to start. Doctor Plague, that murderer and charlatan. He will be forced to confess his crimes.

Liaodi, the inner courtyard of Mengfu.

An old man in a Taoist robe was sitting in a pavilion with another old man in coarse cloth clothes, and the old man in a Taoist robe was the first to speak, "Brother Meng is a little absent-minded today?" But what's on your mind? ”

The old man in coarse cloth took a sip of the strong tea that was put aside, and replied with a sad face, "Alas~ If the situation is unstable today." ”

"Hahaha, your brother still has a hard time? Don't pretend in front of me, I think you should have made up your mind, right? ”

The old man of the coarse cloth smiled and shook his head, "It's not too tricky to say, but when I think that the people have finally lived a few days of stable life, and now they are about to be involved in a struggle that should not belong to them, I can't bear it." ”

The old man in the Taoist robe looked at the old man sitting in anger and said with disdain, "Meng Xun, you are really shameless." Do you still care if those people live or die? ”

After hearing the words of the old man in the Taoist robe, Meng Xun was not to be outdone, and shot back, "The surname Liu, let's not laugh at fifty steps and laugh at a hundred steps, do you care?" ”

"Then at least I won't be like you, who will I show if I know the fake all day long?"

"Okay, okay, let's stop arguing." Meng Xun sat up, looked at the old man in the Taoist robe opposite seriously, and asked in a serious tone, "You give me an explanation, how big will this incident be?" ”

The old man in the Taoist robe tilted his head back and sighed long, "Don't say it, don't say it~"

Seeing the old man in the Taoist robe behaving like this, Meng Xun was not annoyed but continued to ask, "What will happen to my Meng family?" ”

"I knew you were going to ask this, don't worry, the Meng family won't die." The old man in the Taoist robe picked up the wine jug and drank it on his back, and after drinking, he suddenly straightened his body, looked at Meng Xun with a slightly mysterious look, and then read an inexplicable poem, "Everyone in the world is a thing in an urn, and immortals are also pawns of horses." No one knows what happened before......"

Meng Xun looked at the drunk old man in the robe who fell on the table and shook his head helplessly, so he had to order his subordinates to help him back into the house, how could he not know that the old man was pretending to be drunk, but he couldn't force people to say something unspeakable. Immortals are also pawns, if ordinary people will only think that the Taoist is drunk and making nonsense, but Meng Xun knows that the Taoist is not talking nonsense.

Everyone in the world thinks that as long as they become immortals, they can do whatever they want, but they don't know that even in the immortal world, there are three, six, nine and so on. In front of some immortal giants, ordinary immortals are no different from mortals in the world. Although the Taoist in front of him seems to be ordinary, behind him is a great god. However, these are not things that Meng Xun needs to worry about, as long as he can ensure that the power of the Meng family does not decline in his hands, this is enough.